


Memoirs of A Better Time

by kireiion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, College, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireiion/pseuds/kireiion
Summary: Bokuto remembers the days of past affection and aches over what was and is no longer.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Memoirs of A Better Time

**Author's Note:**

> hey, this is gonna take a while to get into the actual story because i love akaashi so much that i want to worship him every other sentence. (also the way i have it planned right now is that it's gonna be a long work but we'll see hehe)  
> my writing style might be slightly unconventional for fanfiction? idk haha... pls leave me some feedback, story isn't finished yet...   
> i might add tags, change rating later on and there is gonna be some angst but what can you do, amirite?
> 
> Bokuto's POV !!

To Love,  
For In Eternity I’ll be Yours

My biggest regret is not the love I’ve given, but the love I received. For I feel its absence now so deeply within my own being that I cannot help but wish for the relief of forgetting. Were it not for the everlasting sensation of something missing, of finding and losing that which I hold most dearly, would my existence have been better spent? 

Oh, youth. So many regard these years with a certain skepticism in hindsight that it makes me wonder which fool could have dubbed them the spring of life. In fact, I doubt any analogy could hold truth to the actual experience, seeing as it is such a fleeting moment of conscience, barely felt before it becomes nothing more than a memory. The ones who live it can never appreciate it whereas those who have passed onto the next stages sneer back in envy or arrogance. My life began when I still stood one foot in this, slowly closing, door. Simply because that was when I met Akaashi. 

The thing concerning youth is, you see, that it is so soft and utterly engulfing that looking back at it is almost always painfully awakening in itself. And yet, only he could shine with such a ferocious brightness that my memories of those early days could ease the weight of remembrance. Always the early days. Days of bliss and sweet ignorance, where now I know I had already called his name more fondly than the others’ and yet nothing had been spoken that would forever burden my chest. We met, and what more is there to tell? Poets choose to liken such meetings to finding your second half, a lover to become one whole and still, I could never agree to that because of how much more he was than me. I felt myself so supernaturally drawn to him from the very first glance through his dark lashes. How ever could love be such a beastly emotion of overwhelming wont and warm, overflowing affection? But I am getting ahead of myself, and my life at this point. 

Given, I had found myself attracted to a few individuals here and there throughout my adolescence, however, seeing as it rarely seemed worth the trouble, I mostly chose not to bother. Alas, the world would decide to have me bother. Back at turn of the millennium life was still different, and while I am sure people have said this of every era, for me it is particularly true for the years following my graduation from university. I could either choose to work for my PhD or get a job, but time seemed non-essential and even now I could swear I hovered over the decision for a couple of months. When we met, that is to say when he met me, it was actually through one of the professors who wanted me to stay at his institute and further continue my research for him. Of course, I only found this out much later when he told me one lazy morning in a much too small bed which only provided one blanket; I wonder now how I wasn’t cold at all, but I simply cannot seem to remember any inconveniences over his peacefully sleeping face. My present self aches at the thought that this was once something only the future held, when it is now a memory of the far past. But returning to the moment of when he met me, it seems I had been called in to organize and clean my working desk, since a new assistant was going to move into that area once I would eventually quit. I know only because he told me, that I was wearing a brown and grey Scandinavian sweater with yellow highlights in its intricate designs. Although I no longer own it, I can almost see it, it was one of my favourites. 

I didn’t really pay the more-or-less familiar faces of the university halls any attention so it’s no wonder I didn’t notice the professor talk to a new exchange student while walking around a corner near my desk. I had been engrossed in a book discussing the short story “The Egg”. A fascinating concept, I had to admit, even if it had been a gift from one of my less likeable colleagues. In essence, the theory states (I) we (am) are every single living being in the universe and every life lived is just one of (my) our reincarnations. Every now and then my mind wanders back to the idea that all good deeds and all malevolent threats are merely things experienced by myself in the end. And I would have believed it too, were it not for him. For there is not even the slightest chance that I could ever be so truly good of a being as he. Every love letter and silent gasp and abashedly admitted feelings would not be enough to praise him, for he is the god of my existence. 

When I met him, a few months had already passed since then. I carry a certain pride in the fact that later, he would admit to me that he had wished to see me again, because he had liked my sweater so and thought my hair to be interesting. At the latter confession I scrambled to remember whether I had gelled it up that particular day, and he assured me that I had, in fact, not. As it happened, the second time Akaashi saw me, I had rushed out of bed, only stopping for a cup of hot coffee, to meet the actual deadline of telling my professor that, after all, I would like to keep my desk and work and also, a PhD didn’t sound so bad anyway. As it happened, my professor had already asked the new exchange student a few months ago to fill in for me. As it happened, said exchange student was sitting at my former desk now. He slowly directed his gaze towards me and his voice caught me off-guard, “Sorry, the professor’s not in right now, can I help you with something?” I ought to have felt offended at seeing the very place I wanted to defend taken already and yet, I didn’t. I was baffled and in retrospect, probably stood there without saying anything a beat too long, but who can tell now? “You’re Bokuto, no?” And my name felt so right when he said it. “Did you forget something here? I’m not sure where-” I must’ve said something dumb then but all my mind provides me with now is that I somehow blurted out, “Hi, yeah, uh, no it’s fine, umm, wait, sorry, who are you?” “My name is Akaashi, I guess I got your job.” He pointed towards the desktop in front of him and in the same movement pushed the chair out from behind the desk to walk around and lean in front of it. I will forever remember the way he rolled his black sleeves up in one swift move and crossed his arms to stare right into my eyes. While his expression was somehow guarded, I didn’t feel any animosity from him, maybe careful curiosity. My next words amaze me to this day, “Cool, um, Akaashi?”, back then his name had such an electrifying new feel on my lips, “Could I leave you my number here to call me when the professor gets back? I wrote him an email but I think they suspended my student account, I just wanted to ask him some stuff.” The effect of a surprisingly cute reaction of someone who had seemed so nonchalant mere seconds ago came for me with an overwhelming force. For a bare millisecond, his eyes widened and the unexpected made him avert his gaze. I can say with paramount certainty that the way he then brushed his dark hair behind his ear as he quietly agreed, “Sure”, was the first time I fell in love with Akaashi Keiji.

**Author's Note:**

> i appreciate any kind of feedback !! 
> 
> are you interested in this type of story? 
> 
> will update as soon as possible, i expect to update every other day!


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